


Minx

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [7]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Co-workers, Cock Tease, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3306128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair.</p><p> </p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minx

Theatre is an excellent source of socializing and establishing a support group. There are a number of techniques that directors and teachers use to promote trust, comfort, and familiarity within a cast of strangers. Catch My Name was used as introductions, memorization by repetition. Trust falls provided a common ground to encourage confidence and reliance on another relative stranger.

Of course, Tom had his own versions that we played in the privacy of his bedroom, his shower and, on one occasion, his kitchen table. He ensured time and time again that I remembered his name by making me scream his name orgasm after orgasm, repetition. We practiced trust falls, him falling onto me into bed.

“Stay,” the man wrapped his arms around me from behind again, heeding my progress. “We haven’t christened the sofa yet.”

“Are you planning to get rid of it in the near future?”

“No.” He nestled his lips at the crook of my neck and nipped in another attempt to change my mind.

“Then you’ll have to invite me to use it another time.” I bent at the waist, around his folded arms to pull on my other shoe. The exaggerated movement effectively brushed my rear with his crotch. I paused when I felt the unmistakable evidence that Tom was ready to go yet again. I rolled my eyes and sighed, “Thomas, how are you still hard? You’re very likely to give this girl a complex. I can’t keep you satisfied for more than two hours.”

He laughed with male pride. “I’m not apologizing for that.”

“I did it! I knew there would be at least one thing you wouldn’t say sorry for.” I pulled my shoe on and tried to step out of his arms. “I really must go.”

He gently bit my ear, another enticement to stay. “Why?”

“My girly things. Clean clothes. Knickers. Bras. Things you don’t have… well, I hope you don’t.”

He laughed again. “You won’t need them if you stay.”

I swatted his hands so he’d release me from his arm restraints. Reluctantly, he opened his arms, allowing me to collect the rest of my things to leave. He walked me to his front door, and kissed me soundly. I sprinted for the tube station to take me home. Because we rehearsed (yeah, that’s what I’m going with) for most of Sunday into Monday, I was running about half an hour behind my comfort zone. I took the tube from his flat to mine at ten in the morning.

I swooned at the smell of him; I didn’t particular care for it on me, other than the hint that transferred during our liaisons. I had a deep and abiding love for my Pantene, vanilla scented body wash, and Bath and Body works peach lotion. I was partial to feminine, delicate and gorgeous, and the complete opposite of every toiletry Tom used. When it came to clothing, I wasn’t precisely his size and he didn’t shop at Victoria’s Secret for his knickers.  

Despite being delayed at the start of the day, I made it to rehearsal on time with two minutes to spare. We were scheduled to complete blocking the play and Tom and I were thrown together for most of the afternoon. The second act centered around the conflict involving our characters and required us to be near each other for most of those scenes. The director completed the party scene with the rest of the cast during the first hour.

I was anticipating Tom’s teasing allotment this time, and I wouldn’t let him get to me today. He sat directly next to me, in the back corner of the room out of the way of the action. From hip to ankle, we were pressed together from how close he decided to sit by me. I didn’t shift to move away, and encouraged the small contact. My costar, always confident, took the seat like he owned the building. He sat back, legs spread and an arm thrown over the back of my seat.

In hushed voice, he greeted, “Abigail.”

Revealing nothing, I nodded, “Thomas.”

Displaying his beautiful smile, he acknowledged the use of his full name. “Sexy as hell.”

“The sound of your own name?” He nodded, his grin taking on a suggestive, arrogant quality. “You are an ego maniac, aren’t you?”

“I prefer confident,” he licked his lips slowly, trying to unbalance me.

I objected blankly, “Vanity. Careful. That closely resembles pride, one of the seven deadly sins.”

“Takes a sinner to know a sinner.” He looked pleased with himself.

“An attitude like that could reform me actually.”

Surprise weaved beautifully into his tone, “You wouldn’t.”

“If I’m not mistaken, and I know I’m not,” I said informatively. “Someone was left high and dry this morning.” I glanced at his well displayed groin area, allowing the innuendo land.

“I suspect that would be as unpleasant for you as it is for me. The reciprocity of the act has you  _coming_  back for more.”

“Oh, Thomas, you have firsthand knowledge that I can take care of that on my own,” I smoothly informed him. His blue eyes clouded over with the memory. I won!

Giddy from our exchange, the rest of rehearsal sailed by. As we blocked the party scene, I had to sit on Tom’s lap. As the director turned to one of the other couples to give notes, I got comfortable. I accidentally (translation: deliberately) brushed my hand over his cock. He sucked in a deep breath and sat up a little straighter suddenly. I was relieved when I glanced at the mirror to see that none of the other cast members caught the act. I giggled lightly, “Oops, so sorry.”

He was very well aware that I was sorry and that it was performed with intention. He growled just for me, “Minx.”

For the kiss between our characters, the director sent most of the cast out for a half hour to give us privacy. Tom and I had discussed it previously and decided that we would do the open mouth no tongue theatre kiss to make it look convincing. The director was over the moon excited because that was what he had wanted. When the scene called for it, we kissed. To mess with Tom, I touched his tongue with mine and then quickly ended it before he could do anything. We ran the scene three more times and each time I did the same thing.

Chuffed with the progress, the director left the room to collect the rest of the cast to resume the rest of the play. Tom grasped my arm and groaned into my ear quietly, “What are you doing to me?” I looked up at him innocently, batted my eyelashes and shrugged. He shook his head and grinned. “You’re destroying my patience, woman. I’m about to take you on the floor.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time…” I winked, taking a deep swallow of my water.

The costume shop was on the third floor of the theatre. Tom and I reported there an hour before rehearsal for confirmation measurements and fittings for the costumes. As we climbed the steps, alone in the staircase, he backed me into the wall to steal a kiss or five. His tongue possessively devoured my mouth, tasting, biting. His body lined with mine deliciously, cornering me for a few minutes.

With his forehead to mine and his eyes still closed, he pleaded, “Let me have you now.”

Our hot panting breaths mingled together, firing off streams of heated desire through my brain. Taking the reins of my chariot of arousal, I answered evenly, “In the stairwell? I deserve better than that.”

“Fuck!”

“Thomas, language…” A hand to the middle of his chest, I slipped from where he held me hostage.

“Abby…”

Starting the ascent up the stairs again, I turned over my shoulder and informed him, “You better see to that.” I pointed to his semi hard erection and left him behind. I snuck a peek back at him as I turned the corner to the next flight. Tom was leaning hard with two hands into the wall, eyes squinted shut and trying to breathe.

There were two dressers in the costume room when I arrived alone. The room was a large converted dressing room with a small open area down the center aisle surrounded by the lighted mirrors. Makeshift male and female dressing rooms were set up by opaque curtains behind the mirrors with more open space on the other side. Marisol and Sarah were seated at a square table with laptops right by the door when I walked in. There were clothing racks, bolts of cloth, dressed mannequins and random materials scattered about the space.

Before Marisol took off with me to the female dressing room, she offered a cupcake. They’d been celebrating Sarah’s birthday and had a few leftover cupcakes. My sugar tooth gratefully accepted at the sight of the vanilla icing. Using my pointer finger to gather icing, I chatted with the girls while waiting for Tom to pull himself together. He arrived just in time to see me lick my third fingertip of icing into my mouth. I slowed the action to turn it into an innuendo for his benefit. His expressive eyes narrowed and mouthed over the women’s heads, “Evil!”

I smiled around my finger, trapped between my teeth and winked.

Marisol dressed me in the partially constructed dress that I was meant to wear in act one. The cleavage was deeper than it should’ve been. Bless you, Marisol. She was on my side in getting to the man. I crossed my arms over my chest and went around to the open space in the middle for Sarah to take pictures of our costumes. Tom was already there, looking incredibly tall and handsome in his costume. As soon as I dropped my arms, his eye line went directly to my breasts, close to spilling out the top of the dress.

Marisol and Sarah were arguing over how to run a program that they needed on one of the computers. Tom whispered, “Damn it, woman!”

“This wasn’t me this time. An expected and very appropriate coincidence considering your torture for today.”

“My flat or yours tonight?”

“Implying that I’ve forgiven you for earlier?”

“I’ll beg.”

“You might have to, Thomas.”

We patiently waited for Marisol and Sarah to resolve their discussion, Tom’s gaze glued to the globes upon my chest. When the pictures were completed with our act one and act two costumes, the girls helped us out of the garments and back into our street clothes. The girls were eager to review the pictures with the director before he left for the day. They weren’t happy with my act two costume. We heard their voices disappearing down the corridor and the stairs.

Tom lunged for the door, closed and locked it. The wild beast of man attacked me, pushing me to the open area. He was madly horny and alone with me, the object of his desire. He landed heavily in a computer chair, bringing me into his lap, his lips never leaving mine. His erection was persistent and pressed against my center. I rotated my hips slowly, teasing him.

“Are you coming home with me tonight?” he asked desperately.

“Beg me,” I demanded as I hungrily attacked his mouth with a bruising kiss. Hurriedly, Tom unbuckled his belt and his jeans, overly anxious. His hands caressed my breasts, awakening the deep pit of desire within me. That hollow that I had tamed all day with my teasing. The intensity near overload, ignoring the urge to be with him now potent and violent.

“Please.” He kissed my neck. “Please.” He bit my pebbled nipple beneath layers of clothing. “Please.” He licked the valley between my breasts. “Please.”

I stood from his lap, stripping my pants and knickers from my body quickly. Tom leaned back in the chair to pull his trousers and pants down just enough to free his turgid length. When I lowered myself back onto his lap, I accepted him into my overwhelmingly wet body. I watched the pleasure change the expression on my face in the mirror behind Tom’s head. I curled into him, placing my shoulder beneath his chin. “Watch me fuck you, Thomas,” referring to the mirror behind my head.

My hips moved almost of their own accord, undulating to him and away from him. I added a slight twist to stimulate my clit. This was going to be a swift pleasure to see us to his flat. Scratching the itch before applying the ointment. Tom’s pelvis lifted to mine as the wave drew me to him each time. The pace increased with every surge forward. Tom’s hands cinched my hips between his hands, joining me to him.

Breathlessly, pulling at his hair roughly, I demanded, “Make me come, Thomas.” I watched the words form on my lips in the reflection on the wall.

“Abigail,” he moaned.

And then I fell over the edge of oblivion, my head thrown back, eyes closed, and body stuttering with the shock of all-consuming pleasure. The moment I reached orgasm, Tom accompanied, hugging me to him as I was his hold on reality and ecstasy all at once.

When we returned from our trip through the land of climax, we were slow to unthread our bodies from one another. We finally dressed and found our way back into each other’s arms. “Your flat.”

He smiled. “Minx.”


End file.
